


Son of an Actor

by Dotdotbeepdot



Series: Self-Indulgent [6]
Category: Video Blogging RPF, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Can I say that??, Creepy, Emotional Manipulation, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Minor Character Death, Semi-canon to my storyline, Seriously this is kinda creepy and disturbing so be careful, open/ambiguous ending, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:53:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24711910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dotdotbeepdot/pseuds/Dotdotbeepdot
Summary: For there needs to be an Author for there to be a hero.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Female Character
Series: Self-Indulgent [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1652389
Kudos: 7





	Son of an Actor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fleecal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleecal/gifts).



> So okay. I once mentioned on my server that I thought of the idea of Actor being Author/Host’s father because I thought it would be really cool to have the “hero” be so obsessed at having his story be written his way, that he just creates his own author. I don’t know if I should make it canon but my friend Bee really likes the idea and it is semi-canon because Actor did use Author for his story, so I wanted to test out a story for it. 
> 
> It’s why longer than I planned but whatever hope you enjoy.

Mark leaned on his cane as he watched his son playing in the backyard of someone else’s home. After all, Mark didn’t have custody over the child.

Little Issac Grant was definitely a cute little boy. Spiked brown hair, tiny dimpled cheeks, and bright golden eyes. Mark admired the trait the boy had gotten from his mother. He didn’t look that much like Mark, but he’s sure it would change as he got older. Oh,  Mark couldn’t wait until he got older.

“Issac! Come in, Mama brought home dinner!” One of Issac’s adoptive mothers came shouting from the house. Issac turned and ran with tiny little legs back to his home. Mark huffed and left.

His son had been adopted by two women, neither being his actual mother. His real mom is dead. Mark had killed her after he found out she had gotten rid of his son. He hadn’t meant to, of course, she would have actually been quite useful at raising his son with the powers he was sure to be inherited. Yet she had tossed him away, claiming that she didn’t want to raise him the way that she was raised and she wanted Issac to have his own life away from his destiny. Mark had just gotten mad at her for doing such a thing without telling him.

He just assumed that she Saw that her choice would get her killed. She didn’t fight him at all.

One day, Issac and Mark met.

Issac was ten. His hair had gotten longer and now almost completely covered his eyes. He stumbled through the forest, pushing his bangs back constantly just to see where he was going. He quite literally crashed into Mark. He had just watched Issac fall on his ass and the kid pushed his bangs out of his face completely to gap at him. 

“What pretty eyes you have?” Mark grinned down at the boy, who quickly dropped his bangs and got to his feet. He brushed off his shorts and pulled a few sticks from his sweater.

“I know they’re weird...” he mumbled. Clearly, the boy didn’t inherit Mark’s confidence.

“Those eyes are special. Anyone who says otherwise don’t know what kind of man you will be when you grow up.” Mark bent down and pushed Issac’s bangs back again, grinning as he stared into those golden eyes with his black ones. Issac looked uncomfortable, trying to look away from him. Mark forced his eyes back on him by grabbing his chin. “Look at me.”

Issac did, swallowing down his fear. Mark searched every inch of that face, putting every detail of his son in his brain for safe keeping. He could almost feel how afraid Issac was. He let go of his chin, but still kept his hand in his hair. Issac didn’t dare to move.

“We’ll have to work on that later. You’re too young to be of any use to me now.” He let go of Issac’s bangs, letting them fall back into his face and stood up straight. “Go, now. Your mothers are probably wondering where you are.”

Issac didn’t need to be told twice.

Mark didn’t see much of Issac outside after that.

Mark continued to watch his son grow from the safety of the trees. He did start to look more like Mark every year. His shoulders getting broader, arms getting bigger, widow’s peak now more pronounced. He still had some differences, his hair was still brown and cheeks still dimpled. One thing Mark was quite jealous about was his jawline was more defined then his. And he seemed like he might grow taller than him. Unfair.

Issac still seemed on edge since their meeting. Sometimes when he’s reading on the porch, he’ll glance up at the forest, paranoid that he’ll see someone watching. Mark made sure to keep out of his sight. Issac’s little sister— a fake adopted one named Grace— would always be stopped by him right before entering the forest. Issac never explained to her why, so Mark assumed he never told his parents about their meeting.

He should consider himself lucky. He’s seen one of Issac’s mothers and would rather not get messed up with her.

It wasn’t until high school started for Issac for the shift to start. Mark remembered the screams of the boy’s nightmares like it was happening right in front of him now. 

Visions. His first visions. And they were bad ones at that.

Mark was getting more curious about what those dreams were as night after night of them went by. He would stand at Issac’s window and watch for any clue of what it might be. He always disappeared once Issac would jump awake or someone would enter his room.

But Issac never told anyone about them.

After two weeks of nightmares, Issac entered the forest.

“I know you’re there,” he said to the empty trees. Mark was, indeed, there, but he’s hidden himself from the boy’s sight. Issac swallowed. “What— wh-what are you doing to me?”

“I see you in my dreams. You’re just... standing there. Watching as sh-she—“ he cuts himself off, breathing shallow. He shakes his head, suddenly angry and looking accusingly around at the trees. “Why are you bothering me? What the hell is wrong with you that you want to creep on some kid and fucking touch his face and say all that creepy shit to him! Just leave me the _fuck_ alone!”

Issac has left the forest and the next day, mark watched as Grace got ran over by a car.

So that’s what the dream was about, huh?

His son wasn’t quite the same after that. He never left the house unless it was for school. Mark had to go to the windows now just to see him lying in bed and moping around. He barely ate, barely talked, barely did anything but sleep. It was awfully boring. He wished something interesting would happen.

Mark decided to take that into his own hands.

He gave Issac a journal while he was at school. He put it on his desk with a note, telling him that he should write to cope with his lose. Mark also took the chance to clean Issac’s filthy room. He remembers Damien doing a similar thing when he got depressed. Maybe it would get things going again.

Issac had looked at the notebook with confusion. He looked even a little scared when he read the note, glancing at his window. Confused and scared were good, much better than just blank stares.

It took a few days, but soon Issac was writing. He was  _finally_ writing and using his abilities. God, it took him long enough. 

Mark would read it when Issac was away. It seemed like he was using it for stories, an interesting take to what his mother’s family used to do with their writing. They were good for a teenager, writing being in his blood and all. The actor in Mark thought it was quite impressive. He left a note telling him such.

Issac started locking his windows and taking the journal with him.

Brat.

Mark had let him be for a bit, letting him graduate and get his own place, even some of his writings published before bothering him again. It wasn’t until Issac wrote a particularly nasty story about a coworker that had come true that Mark decided to show himself.

The boy was on his ratty old couch, horrified as he got the news from his tv that his coworker was found bleeding from a slit in his neck and hung from a tree in his childhood home’s forest. He got up, hands in his hair and tears in his eyes as he paced the floor. His breathing was fast. Mark should drop in before he has a panic attack.

And so he did. He appeared in front of Issac’s tv in a blink of an eye, making his son scream and fall back onto his couch. He stared at Mark with terrified bloodshot eyes, shaking his head and breathing heavily.

“You did it, didn’t you,” he stated. He choked on a whimper and brought his hands up to his hair again. “Oh God, you’re fucking sick! You killed someone!”

“It was you who killed someone, Issac.” Mark corrected, leaning on his cane and poking a finger in the air matter-of-factly. “I told you that you were special.”

“So whatever I write kills people!?” He shouted.

“Whatever you write comes true. It’s in your family’s nature.” Mark rounded the table, twirling the cane in his hands. “Your mother did it, as did your grandparents and your ancestors. That’s why you have those pretty golden eyes of yours, and the nightmare visions, of course.”

Issac froze, going deathly still. “Did...” he looked up at Mark slowly, face paler than snow. “Did I kill Grace?” 

Mark took pity on the kid. He crouched in front of him, ignoring how Issac leaned away from him and pulled his legs up on the couch. “No, you didn’t kill Grace. A vision is something out of your control. Even if you didn’t have these abilities, she would’ve still died that day.”

A few tears escaped Issac’s eyes, but he was too scared to wipe them away. Mark reached up to do it for him, but the boy cringed away.

“H-how do you know all this?” More tears fell and he took an angry, shaky breath. “Why have you been  _following_ me?”

“Because I can help you, dear,” Mark lies so easily. He touched Issac’s cheek, ignoring his flinch as he wiped away the tears. “I am here to be your guide.”

“You gave me that book. You caused this to happen.”

“I did nothing but help you find your destiny.”

“My destiny is to be a murderer!?”

“It’s to be an author for the universe,” Mark was starting to get frustrated with him, but he didn’t let it show. “So a few people get hurt and/or die along the way. The story has to be written, there needs to be an author in this world so that everything happens accordingly.”

“This is sick,” Issac panted. He pulled his head away and shook his head, shutting his eyes tight. “This is so fucked up. I’m not special, I’m not a murderer, and I’m not some sort of fucking prophet.”

“You are, Issac, and you’re going to have to deal with it.” Mark snapped startling the boy silent. Mark sighed and moved his hand to his hair, pushing back that shark fin of brown hair. “I know you must be scared, but I can help you. You don’t have to do this alone. Just... let me in.”

Issac was breathing heavily, looking quite faint when Mark had moved his touch to a familiar position. He let out the tiniest little breath, like a small child scared of the monster scratching at his window. Finally, he nodded.

“Okay.” 

Mark grinned and got up to start their first lesson.


End file.
